“I wonder if we wouldn’t be better off with a pagan,” muttered Marco.
Petro looked sharply at him. “Don’t say that to anyone else, Marco. Venice was the most tolerant republic in the world. These magical murders have built up feelings to the point where just the smallest thing could spark the burning of the Campo Ghetto.”
* * *
Benito certainly didn’t have Marco’s neat handwriting, thought Kat wryly.
I will be leaving with the Fleet for the Polestine forts tomorrow. Maria will be all on her own. Please, Kat, can you go and see Maria? She’s in our old apartment. She won’t talk about stuff with me. She won’t go to you. I’ve tried.
Benito
There followed a postscript with directions to the apartment. Kat took a deep breath; then, went up to see her grandfather. “Grandpapa. Remember that girl that that Benito Valdosta talked to you about? I’m going to go and fetch her.”
The old man smiled ruefully at her. “I’ve been thinking about that. And about that boy. The older one. He reminded me of Luciano. Tell me about him. Tell me about this girl. I know too little of what you do out there.”
She looked warily at him. He smiled. “I won’t be angry. Word of Montescue. You’re the last of my blood, girl. And I’m beginning to realize I’ve been something of a stubborn old fool. Put the Casa Montescue before your safety and happiness. Without you there is no Casa.”
Kat smiled back. “I am Montescue, too, Grandpapa. Except for getting wet, I enjoyed doing it.”
She sat down and told him how she’d met Benito, how she’d met Maria, how she’d met Marco—and how Maria had escaped from the Casa Dandelo. “Old Guiseppe, he was all for calling you to take action against the Dandelo. I pointed out . . .”
“He was right! Go fetch this woman, cara mia. I want her here. Old Dourso needs to hear this, too.”
So Kat left to go and fetch Maria, with Lodovico Montescue’s blessing. It was heading towards sunset, so with luck Maria would be in the apartment. By the time she’d found her way down the narrow alley and up the dirty, narrow stairs reeking of cabbage-water, Kat was glad she’d got there before nightfall. She was also glad of the weight of the pistol in her reticule.
Maria opened the door cautiously. “Kat?” she said incredulously. “How did you find this place?”
“Benito told me. Can I come in?”
“Yeah. Of course!” Maria ushered her into the dark room. “You got trouble, Kat?”
“Not more than usual. Listen, I talked to my grandfather about you. He wants to talk to you. And I want you to come stay with me at Casa Montescue, at least while the war is on.”
Maria put her head in her hands and shook her head fiercely. “That Benito! He doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. I can’t do that, Kat.”
“Why not? You’ve got a formal invitation from my grandfather.”
Someone thumped on the heavy door. “Who is it?” asked Maria, walking over to the door.
“Message from Benito Valdosta.”
Maria opened the door a crack . . .
To have it flung wide.
“Worked like a charm!” said the first bruiser, grabbing Maria and pushing his way inside. Another man followed him, closing the heavy door behind him.
“Oh look, Luce,” said the bigger one. “There are two of them! We’re gonna have us some fun first. We thought we’d have to take turns, now we got one each.”
“An’ one’s a dainty lil’ Case Vecchie—”
“Matteoni filth!” spat Maria.
“Don’t hurt me! Oh please don’t hurt me!” whimpered Kat, shrinking into a corner. “I’ve got money. Lots of money in my purse.” She reached into her reticule.
The one called Luce ambled toward her, chuckling evilly. “We’re gonna be paid twice, Stephano. For som’n I’d do for pleasure.”
* * *
The endless practice that Giuseppe had put her through paid off. Kat gave a moment’s thanks that she’d followed Giuseppe’s instructions to the letter and cranked the clumsy wheel-lock mechanism before leaving her house. She didn’t even try to take it out of the reticule. She simply shot straight through it.